The fire crackled in the corner of her room, but the warmth didn't reach her. Amethyst sat on the edge of the massive bed, arms wrapped around herself. She had never felt so far from home—even though her home had sold her like a crate of wine.
The silence pressed in around her like a second skin.
She rose and walked to the tall window, pushing the heavy curtains aside. Outside, the estate stretched endlessly into darkness—stone statues half-hidden in hedges, fountains frozen in the rain, and walls that looked like they were built to keep people in, not out.
She turned back to the room. Every corner gleamed with quiet wealth—dark oak shelves lined with leather-bound books, paintings of old men with colder eyes than Luciano's. It was beautiful. And it felt like a cage.
Don't wander, he'd said.
So, naturally, she did.
She opened the door slowly and slipped out into the hall. The lights were dim, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The house was too quiet—like it was holding its breath.
The hallway split in two directions. One led down toward the grand staircase. The other led deeper into the mansion.
She chose the latter.
The walls grew darker here, the paintings stranger—women with blank eyes, a man holding a rose dripping red. At the end of the hall, she found a door slightly ajar, warm light spilling through.
She pushed it open gently.
Books.
It was a library, but not like any she'd ever seen. Floor-to-ceiling shelves. A fireplace glowing softly. A scent of smoke, ink, and something faintly citrus.
Luciano sat in a leather armchair, a glass of whiskey in one hand, an open book in the other.
She froze.
He didn't look surprised to see her.
"I told you not to wander," he said calmly.
Her voice was steadier than she expected. "I wanted to know where I'm being kept."
He closed the book with a soft thump and stood.
"You're not a prisoner, Amethyst. You're a promise."
She frowned. "A promise?"
He stepped closer. "Your father owed me a debt. He gave me what was most valuable to him."
"But you don't even know me."
"I know enough." His voice dropped slightly. "You're strong. You don't scare easy. And you're beautiful."
Her breath hitched.
There was something dangerous in the way he looked at her, but not just danger. Something else—a flicker of hunger. Of possession.
She hated that her skin reacted to it. That his words made heat rise in her cheeks.
"So what now?" she asked, forcing steel into her tone.
Luciano moved past her toward the fireplace, pouring another drink. "Now, you learn the rules. You follow them. You stay alive."
She blinked. "Stay alive?"
He looked over his shoulder. "This world isn't safe for people like you, Amethyst. Not because of me. Because of the ones who would take you without permission."
Her heart beat faster.
"You're saying this is protection?"
"I'm saying I'm the only thing standing between you and a dozen worse men who don't care if you live or die."
She swallowed. "Then why do you care?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he walked over, slowly, until they were face to face again. His gaze locked on hers.
"Go back to your room," he murmured. "You're not ready to see the truth yet."
"I'm not afraid of the truth."
His expression darkened slightly, and for the first time, she saw something behind the coldness—pain. Deep. Buried. And still burning.
"No," he said softly. "But you should be."
Then he turned away from her, leaving her in the doorway.
Confused. Angry.
And more intrigued than she wanted to admit.